Volume 3 Number 3


Summer 2005

The Man Who Mistook His Stomach For A Hat

William I. Lengeman III

Grigor K. awoke that morning, dressed and -- fumbling in the predawn gloom -- reached down into his gullet, pulled forth his stomach and placed it upon his head.

"Well, my hat is rather warm and moist today," Grigor mused, but as he was late for work, he did not give it a second thought. Besides, it was a chilly morning and the warmth was quite pleasing.

Grigor -- whose real name was not Grigor K., but Bart Winkley -- a name that he didn't much care for -- could safely have been described as absent-minded. "Dotty" was the word his mother always used. As he walked the two blocks to his office with his breath fogging in the frigid dawn and the stomach hat steaming ever so slightly, he took no notice of the furtive glances cast in his direction.

Upon arriving at his office, Grigor took off his coat and ... hat and hung them on the rack in the lobby. He sat at his desk and busied himself with the previous day's correspondence.

It was not until he had his first cup of coffee and felt it trickling down through his innards and pooling in his leg that Grigor realized that anything was amiss. Grigor stuck his arm down his throat and rummaged around a bit. A quizzical look came over his face.

"Well, that's the thing then."

After a few moments, he clapped himself on the forehead and went to the lobby. He retrieved his stomach and reinserted it, whereupon he proceeded to greatly enjoy a second cup of coffee, with no ill effects.

Our little tale should end here, but it doesn't, as it should be pointed out that Grigor became rather fond of using his stomach for a hat and continued to do so for quite a number of years. Over time, the novelty wore off and the people he encountered in daily life didn't think much about it anymore. The only thing Grigor had to worry about was replacing the stomach before he ate or drank and after while that became second nature.

And there, gentle reader, does our story end. We could tell of the time that Grigor mistook a seventeen-inch section of his wife's colon for a pair of socks, but that is another story and it shall be recounted on a day other than this one.